


You've Got the Love

by displayheartcode



Series: Warmth of the Sun [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bisexual Character of Color, Bisexuality, Coming Out, M/M, Mutual Pining, Partial Gender Bend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2724734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/displayheartcode/pseuds/displayheartcode
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Harry,” Hermione said. Her voice wasn’t as sweet as Ron’s, but it was soft in the way that it was meant to be addressing bad news. “Have you ever thought about moving out?”</p><p>Harry has a small crisis regarding his sexuality when becoming someone’s flatmate. He wouldn’t be having this problem if he’d roomed with Neville instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dilemma of Engaged Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. 
> 
> I have many WIPs, I know, but this is a holiday present. Hopefully, it will stay as four or five chapters. After this, there are definite plans for a Lady AU for Harry/Ginny.
> 
> Inspired by many things: several episode of Scrubs, the interview with Andrew Garfield, the fics that came from that, and that scene I wrote in And We’ll be Chasing Stars.

“Harry, we love you,” Ron said. “We really do, mate. Honest.”

Harry nodded. He had no clue where this conversation was heading.

“But there comes a time…” Ron faltered and looked to Hermione for help. His fiancée sighed and set her cup of tea down on the little table in their living room. She nodded. “What I’m trying to say is—bollocks. Hermione, I can’t do it.”

“Ron.”

“I can’t!” he insisted, making his tea slosh over the rim. Hermione’s glare grew sterner. Ron bowed his head and groaned.

Harry pretended to be more interested in adding extra sugar in his cup. Ever since Hermione had moved in with them, things like extra sugar and certain teeth-rotting treats were becoming scarce in their small flat.

“Harry,” Hermione said. Her voice wasn’t as sweet as Ron’s, but it was soft in the way that it was meant to be addressing bad news. “Have you ever thought about moving out?”

He knocked over the sugar bowl. “What?”

Ron scooted on the couch, his hand sliding into Hermione’s. She raised their joined hands so that her engagement ring could sparkle perfectly in the light. Harry remembered being there when Ron had bought that ring. It was the first thing his friend had bought with his Auror salary. Harry was joking at that time on how she would prefer a rare manuscript than a piece of jewelry.

Now there seemed to be less laughter.

“Really?” Harry said. He squirmed in his chair. “Don’t you want me to be a convenient source of help around here? After ten years of being best friends, you’re kicking me out?” He purposely looked to Ron when saying this.

Ron squeezed Hermione’s hand and the two shared one of those moments when they had an entire conversation with one glance into each other’s eyes. “So, uh, I think Neville mentioned something the other day about needing a flatmate.”

“I don’t want to live with Neville,” Harry said. “Why can’t I just live here until the wedding or something?”

* * *

“…and that’s what happened,” Harry explained to George an hour later. “Do you think I can stay with you?”

George raised his head from the counter. He had dark circles under his eyes and there was an uncharacteristic beard growing on his chin. “No.” He waved Verity away who made a face at the back of his head. “You don’t want to live with me and Angie and the baby,” he said gravely.

“But I’m his uncle Harry,” said Harry. “And we’re family and I don’t want to live with Neville.”

“What did Neville ever do to you?” George moved behind the counter and gestured a line to form in front of the other register. Harry followed him.

“I’ve been to his flat before,” he said with a shudder. The flatwarming party had been disturbed with several of Neville’s plants unintentionally breeding together, and making a venomous _something_ that ate the cake and some of the presents. Harry wasn’t so eager on visiting since. Seemingly innocent plants that could gobble a three-layer cake were best avoided.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend or someone to stay with?” George snapped his fingers in front of a customer’s face. The teenage wizard was gawking at Harry much like one would at a zoo. “Eyes up here, or I’m charging extra.”

Harry shoved his hands in his coat pockets, trying not to wander too long on his last romantic relationship with Daphne Greengrass. They’d gotten together not that long after he was given his Auror license. He’d been drawn to her because of her sharp wit and pretty dark eyes. Then, out of the blue, she had sat him down two years ago and said that he was great, but she felt that their relationship wasn’t going anywhere.

He had been rooming (and brooding) with Ron since.

“Do you know anyone that needs a flatmate?” Harry asked.

“Well.” George scratched his chin. “Because my social interactions have increased so much since Freddy’s birth—“ He threw his hands up in the air and waved them. “Oi, yes,” he said to his line. “I know he’s bloody Harry Potter, now move on!” Much like the original wizard in front, the small gathering of witches and wizards were keen on knowing Harry’s crisis. He suspected that it would be in _Witch Weekly_ tomorrow. It would possibly be titled as ‘Desirable Bachelor Harry Potter Seeks New Best Friends and Living Conditions’.

“Can I have an autograph?” piped up one of the younger boys in the line. He escaped his mother’s side and walked up to Harry. His mother bemoaned.

Harry had a policy regarding autographs about anyone under the Hogwart’s acceptance age. Those were allowed, but anyone older he tried to decline for the sake of his sanity. And that the younger ones were generally nicer to talk to. They were less likely to be following the gossip talk or whatever the tabloids had to say about his lunch.

He knelt down and took the self-inking quill that the boy held out. “Sure. Who do I make it out to?”

“Harry,” he said with a gap-toothed smile. 

“Nice name,” said Harry, inwardly groaning. He wondered how the roster was looking for Hogwarts. How many Harrys and Harriets were entering the next few years? He signed the piece of parchment with a messy flourish. “I like your jersey.”

The boy was wearing the Puddlemere colors with a familiar number on it. He smiled brightly. “I really, really like Quidditch but Mummy says—“ He looked behind his shoulder and at his mother. “She says I can’t fly on a real broom yet.”

“You will once you get to Hogwarts.” Harry did his best to be artistic and tried drawing a broomstick under his name. He gave up and made what was hopefully a quaffle. He handed it to the younger Harry. 

Inspiration struck.

“Hey, George,” Harry said slowly.

“Finally, can I start selling your action-figures?” he asked. For the past year George had been trying to get Harry to agree about selling a line of action-figures of him in his Auror robes. It was alarming to see how detailed they were and all of the ‘special-effects’; like the weak Disarming Charm that it could do, and how it could sign things. Harry was bent on saying no up to his dying breath. They were disturbing miniature versions of him that were up to no good.

“What? No.” Harry stood up and waved at the younger Harry who suddenly left the shop with his haggard mother. “When does Gid get back from Wales?”

Quidditch season was over, which meant that George and Ron’s youngest brother was moving back to his flat full-time. His empty and spacious flat that was free from well meaning (and almost-married) friends and vicious, Harry-eating plants.

It was perfect! He and Gid knew already each other, they were both single, there was Quidditch to talk about; and Harry could always count on him to have a stash of chocolate lying around somewhere. 

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite Weasley?” was the first thing Harry said after he knocked on the door.

Gid blinked and opened his door a bit wider. He pocketed his wand and gave Harry a weary but rueful grin. “Don’t say that, I can almost hear Ron crying in the distance. He’ll never forgive you, you know.” He leaned against his doorframe with his ankles and arms crossed. “What brings me the honor of having you here?”

Harry could see more of the inside of the flat. There was a large duffle bag on the kitchen table and several stacks of clothes piled around it. “How was Wales?”

“Chilly and that’s not the question you want to ask.” Gid jerked his head. “Come on inside.”

Harry let the door close behind him as he entered and surveyed the place. There were minimal changes since he had last said goodbye before the season started. The few houseplants looked a little wilted and there was some dust on the furniture. But there was a spare room that Harry knew existed next to Gid’s and was connected with a shared bathroom. There was a perfect amount of living space for the both of them. 

Surely Gid wouldn’t mind…

Harry had known him for years now. Sure, Gid was somewhat awestruck when he was younger, always leaving the room when Harry had entered or unable to talk to his face. But a friendship had blossomed sometime in Harry’s Fifth Year and was the only one able to hammer some sense in his head. Then came Sixth Year, and Harry felt like their friendship had been growing stronger since. If Ron and Hermione were being unreasonable, there was always Gid to talk to. He was someone to share an unhealthy amount of love for Quidditch with, and a capable Seeker to play against. Harry honestly enjoyed his company and the laughter that often accompanied it.

“Is that how Aurors question people nowadays?” Gid handed Harry a chilled bottle of Butterbeer. “Sorry that I don’t have anything else. Everything’s a mess right now.”

Harry’s attention turned back to the wizard. Gideon ‘Gid’ Weasley took a lot from his brother, like their tall heights and wide shoulders that always made Harry feel like a midget. He had a shorter nose than Ron’s, and his hair was longer in the front and shorter in the back. He was very freckly from staying outdoors so long, and often came to the Burrow smelling of broom polish and leather—although now he smelled more of sweat than anything else.

Harry twisted the cap off and went straight to the point. “Ron and Hermione thinks it’s best if I move out before they get married.”

Gid uncapped his own bottle. He appeared unfazed by this comment. Instead of coming to Harry’s aid, he said: “It took them that long?” 

“Prat.” Harry jutted his chin and had to crane his neck to glare at him. Gid had always been the taller one. It was frustrating at times like this. “I’m your friend.”

“And as your friend, I have the right to ask what were you thinking of living with everyone’s favorite old married couple?” 

“That’s why I’m thinking of living with you, Gideon,” said Harry right when Gid took a big swallow. It was timed perfectly. 

Gid’s drink spilled over his shirt. His brown eyes went very wide as he spluttered. “Wh-what?”

“Wow,” Harry said, adopting Gid’s earlier tone. “Are those the reflexes professional Quidditch players have nowadays?” 

 _“Me?”_ Gid sounded doubtful. He set his bottle down next to his duffle bag. “Don’t you have other friends?”

Harry shrugged and casually sipped his Butterbeer. “Why not? It’s not like you’re going anywhere except the conditioning stuff.”

Gid closed his eyes. “I’m flattered that you follow my schedule so well.” 

Harry clasped a hand over his heart, sighing deeply. “But I’m your _biggest_ fan.”

“More like my most annoying.” He opened both eyes and studied Harry carefully. A corner of his mouth tilted up. “When are you thinking of moving in?"  


* * *

Molly was ecstatic and Ron was frowning by the time they had told everyone that night at the Burrow.

“My brother?” he said for the umpteenth time.

“Yeah, so?” Harry reached for some peas. He caught Gid laughing with Hermione and Molly about something. It was probably about him and his living habits. It wasn’t that Harry thought he was a bad flatmate at times. He was mainly pesky about getting the dishes done and keeping things slightly tidy. He was sure that he was all right to live with. At least Ron had few complaints. That was all that mattered to him.

“He’s my brother!”

“It’s better than staying with Neville and his army of killer plants.” Harry passed the basket of bread to Percy and went back to adding more food to his plate.

“More like bodyguards,” Ron said with a grimace. “Remember what happened to Seamus during Valentine’s Day?”

“They got the needles out eventually.” Harry chewed thoughtfully on his chicken. “’sides, I like your brother.”

Ron narrowed his eyes and looked at Harry and then to Gid who sat down near them. “What’s your excuse?”

“Someone to remind me to do the laundry. Pass the peas, please.” Gid smiled when he was handed food. “I think it can work. What do you say, Harry?"

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Molly said.

George, on the other hand, was feeding a giggling Freddy. “Hear that, baby?” he cooed. “Your uncle Harry doesn’t want to live with you— _ouch.”_

Angelina smiled pleasantly and readjusted her position in the chair. “You’re just mad that he doesn’t want you to sell those silly action-figures."

“When do you plan on moving?” Arthur asked.

“This Friday.” Harry wiped his face with a napkin. “I don’t have much to bring with me. Ron and I have shared custody over those muggle spy novels. Right, mate?”

But Ron was busying having one of those moments again with Hermione. They were staring into each other’s eyes, and were maybe having a day’s worth of conversations between them.

So Harry shared a conspiring smile with Gid behind Ron’s back. It made him feel better.

 

 

 


	2. Keen Sting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter two!
> 
> Inspiration came from binge-watching Veronica Mars (again), and listening to my Florence and the Machine playlist over and over again. 
> 
> The FFN version isn't up yet because the site is being weird right now whenever I try to save a document. WHY WON'T YOU UPLOAD? JUST DO IT, OKAY? UGH. 
> 
> (And 'Ugh' replies the site as the copy-pasted words don't appear. Rachel: 0 Site: 1)
> 
> Thanks to everyone that's been reading and sorry for the delay.

“Can I tell you what I love about being off-season?” Gid pulled his sweaty jersey over his head. “Less restrictions about food.”

“Your poor stomach.” Harry’s eyes flickered up and he got a good eyeful of what Professional Quidditch could do to a wizard’s body. It wasn’t like he was staring or anything, but he was…comparing. Aurors were built differently than Qudditch players, their chests and stomachs weren’t as….toned. It made sense that Quidditch players needed to build up their core muscles so that they could do tricks, like flying their brooms without using their hands to steer. They needed that muscle while Aurors had more focus on their legs and arms from the constant arm-waving and running into danger. 

Harry looked down at his own torso. Maybe he did choose the wrong profession? Then again, he had heard Gid complain enough about how exhausting that part of training was. Since Oliver Wood had joined Puddlemere years ago and was now their youngest captain of the decade, there were some changes for the team—like the exercises. Harry did not fondly recall them from his time on the school team. 

“What I was saying,” Gid said as he kicked his shoes off, and started walking to their bathroom. “After I take a shower, how about I make you dinner?”

“Don’t do that. You’ll only make me feel guilty, and then I’ll want to make you dinner.” 

It was a constant request ever since Harry moved in two weeks ago. It was different than living with a loving couple, less need to be paranoid about Silencing Charms or wanting a glass of milk at two in the morning. There was more takeout and throwing popcorn kernels at the telly involved when living with Gid. So far they’d stayed up late for several nights talking enthusiastically about the upcoming season, been delivered a singing letter at work to buy some bread (and one sent back to buy more food), and was generally having a good time. Gid was able to take Harry’s mind off the stress that the wedding was creating. 

Up until now.

“Maybe that’s my intention?” Gid opened the bathroom door, but looked back at Harry. “What are you doing there?”

“Um. The speech.” Harry nervously tapped the tip of his quill against the wrinkled piece of parchment. There were balled up revisions on the couch and the floor. It wasn’t a productive day that Harry was having. He wasn’t sure how to get beyond the ‘To my two dearest friends that kicked me out of their flat…’ 

“Tell that exasperating story about how long it took for them to get together?”  Gid suggested. 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I don’t feel like unintentionally insulting anyone.” He knew that Lavender Brown was attending the wedding with her girlfriend Pavarti, and he wasn’t going to be responsible for any arguments between them or with Ron and Hermione. But Harry really didn’t want to make Lavender out to be the bad guy because of what had happened in Sixth Year. Everyone had made some really bad mistakes back then. 

“Heh.” Gid twisted his jersey in his hands, thinking. “Turn it into a really romantic story? People will eat that up, or you know, something that’ll make Mum cry with happiness.” 

“Is this what you’ve learned from those books?" teased Harry, watching Gid’s face turn to an incredible shade of red. It was a well known and poorly hidden fact that the younger wizard enjoyed the series of romance books titled _The Dear and Dashing_. They were the kind of books that Hermione regularly scoffed for the lack of plot, but had also read in the past. They weren’t just restricted to the Girls’ Dormitories, and they were passed from hand-to-hand in all the Houses, and were often read under the covers at night to avoid ridicule. 

They were of the usual stock: flimsy characters with few interesting traits, recycled plots, and the sort of romances that would make a blushing First Year’s heart go to a stuttering stop. Harry might have read one in curiosity, but had chucked the dog-eared novel across the room when Ron had entered. 

Gid also had a small collection under the floorboard of his bed back at the Burrow. 

Enjoying this, Harry straightened his back and continued. “Come on, Weasley, teach me the fine tuned skills that you’ve gained from those books. Was it in _Cornelia’s Charmed Courter? Dana’s Doomed Desire—“_ Harry laughed as the jersey soared over his head. “Oh, was that your equivalent of giving me a flower? If so, yes. Yes, I’ll be yours—“ This time it was a sock that struck him squarely between the eyes. “Gross.” He flung it away. 

“I got another one and I’m not afraid to use it.” Gid held his other sock up, his face still an embarrassing shade of red. “Keep that up, and you’ll be writing this speech all by your lonesome.” 

It was tempting to ridicule him further, but Harry knew when to draw the line. He patted the spot next to him on the couch. “Come on, I need some help here.” 

Gid sat down next to him, legs stretched out and resting on the coffee table that was in front of them. “Okay, what makes a good love story?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend’s shirtlessness. “Flatmates that keep their clothing on?”

“Close. What’s another thing?” 

The dark-haired wizard rolled his eyes. “True Love’s Kiss.” 

Gid snorted at Harry’s ignorance of the topic. He readjusted his weight on the couch so that he was facing Harry. “Boy meets girl. They’re at odds at first, but they eventually warm up to each other. Feelings start to grow and you think it’ll be simple from there, but life happens.” 

“Are you writing any of these novels?” Harry nudged his leg. “And in this love story is what?” 

“You have the classic: Miscommunication,” Gid went on, speaking seriously. “And it’s not like Ron and Hermione have ever done that.” 

The dark-haired wizard laughed. “What’s next?” 

“Action! Adventure! The story goes on as the two kids have their lives at a constant risk. Any day could be their last—so much to say with so little time! Then in a single moment, one of them realizes something…” Gid’s earlier amusement sobered into something more sincere. There was something captivating about how he was telling the story. Harry had a hard time looking away. 

“What’s the realization?” he asked. 

Gid was looking directly at Harry. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright with the storytelling. “That there’s someone out there. You look a them like they’re the sun, and it’s their brilliance that amazes you. It’s not that they complete you, but how they exist with you. You know they’re the one. So, you make that sudden proclamation of love, and you finally do something about it…” He trailed off suddenly and blinked, breaking the spell. “Yeah, that.”

Harry shoved the parchment in his direction. “I can’t,” he said. “You go write it.”

“And let you take the credit?” He pushed the parchment back to Harry. “No way. It’s your duty as the Best Man, and I still need to feed you.” 

Harry pursed his lips together. Gid’s words were swirling in his mind. He was expecting Quidditch metaphors, but this was better. Ron and Hermione’s romance was like that. They had started out a little rough with each other, but they came to a sense of understanding and they knew by that point how they could work together. Then came the disasters with miscommunication, the highlights being the Yule Ball and the fiasco during Sixth Year. 

After that it was the war, and them finally having that kiss after destroying the Cup. 

Now looking back, it was almost like being at the cinema. He could almost hear the music in the background rising into a crescendo as the fangs were dropped and Ron and Hermione were suddenly kissing. Every argument, every interaction had arrived to that singular moment where something could be okay when all hell had broken lose. 

And officially making Harry a third wheel—but that sounded more petty that anything else. 

But it was hard being best friends with two people that were madly in love with each. They had their own thing to do, dates and their eventual wedding, all the building blocks for living a life together.

It made Harry feel somewhat lonely. 

It wasn’t like Ron and Hermione had pushed him out of their life; they tried to include him, but it felt weird seeing them plan such a happy future while Harry was…just Harry. There was no ‘Harry and—‘ There was only him surrounded by happy couples. 

Gid stood up. “I should take that shower before you complain about the smell. And what do you want for dinner?” 

“Don’t worry.” Harry ran a hand through his uncombed hair, feeling suddenly frustrated. “Yeah, we can make dinner together or something. You don’t have to do anything.” 

“Harry.” He looked up and saw Gid’s sincere face. “Let me do something nice for you.” 

“You’re putting up with me as a flatmate, isn’t that enough?” Harry fiddled with the Self-Inking Quill, smearing his fingers with ink. “Either we make something together or we order takeout again, and I think the guys that run the Chinese place are getting tired of seeing our sorry faces.” 

Gid snorted something and walked to the shower. 

Harry paused his thoughts and crumpled up the parchment into another wad. “You’ve ever felt that?” he asked. 

The redhead stopped and turned around. “Felt what?” 

“That all consuming love you were going on about,” he sighed. He threw the wad up in the air and caught it. 

Gid didn’t answer for a moment. He shrugged. “Have you?” 

Harry couldn’t answer.

* * *

 

The weird feeling more or less dissipated when they were cooking. The kitchenette was larger than what Ron and Hermione had, but it felt like that didn’t stop them from banging into each other. 

Gid almost dropped his handful of olives when he tripped over Harry’s foot. “If I would have known that we were making pizza…” 

Harry looked over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out. “Well, if only _someone_ had gone to the grocers.” He ignored his friend’s look of mock pain and sprinkled the counter with flour. He crooked two fingers but the rolling pin never came into his hand. “Aren’t you hungry?” 

Gid dumped some more possible toppings into another bowl and placed it next to Harry. “It depends on what kind of pizza we’re making. I mean, I’m a purist but you…” Gid shook his head, sighing sadly. “Ron has corrupted you.” He passed Harry the pizza dough and put some before him. 

The bright side of moving out of the Burrow was the experience to branch out with more food. While Harry very much loved Molly’s cooking and could live off it forever, he also enjoyed exploring and trying the Thai and Indian places near Ron and Hermione’s flat. Ron had especially enjoyed being very creative with pizza toppings, and Hermione…was nowhere near as thrilled and was content with her small cheese pizza as Harry and Ron gorged themselves with pineapple and anchovies or whatever they could add to their heart’s desire. 

“You’re a Weasley,” Harry said. “You have to love everything that goes into your stomach.” 

“I like peppers and pepperoni on my lightly browned cheese. Not that.” Gid waved a hand to the bowl of olives. “Or that. Is that _eggplant?”_

Harry flicked flour at his face. “Shoo, let me enjoy making this.” Flour was thrown back at him. Harry scowled and turned around and got more in his face. He blinked and took his glasses off. “Was that necessary?” 

“Very.” Gid handed Harry a towel. “You poke me so I push you back, that’s how I work.” 

“Is that why you don’t go out much?” Harry rubbed his glasses on his shirt and put them back on his face. “You know, I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen you on a date.” He swiped the rolling pin and started making his pizza. 

Gid made a face while he sprinkled cheese over the tomato sauce of his pizza. “Ugh, you sound like Mum. Don’t give me that look, I’m sure the two of you enjoy gossiping about my lack of a love life lately.” 

“If we ever get past the wedding arrangements first, then I’m sure that’s next on the list.” 

“Why go there? Quidditch takes up my life.” 

“I’ve noticed,” Harry drawled. “Being a chaser for Puddlemere must make it so hard to find a date.”

Gid turned away from his pizza. “What makes you say that?” 

Harry shrugged. “You never answered me about feeling some sort of passionate love, and, well, you’re a passionate person. I was just thinking that since you have this free time now…” 

Gid dropped his elbow on the counter and rested his chin on his upturned hand.

“Oh, the Chosen One, you’re the Boy-Who-Lived who looks dead fit in his Auror robes. But wait, when was the last time he felt Cupid’s keen sting?” 

Harry flushed. “Dear Merlin, we’ve become lonely workaholics.” 

“Very observant,” Gid said. He wiped the flour off his hands with his jeans, and went to go put his pizza in the oven. “You’re such an amazing Auror, Harry. I’m sure that sharp intellect is what always catches those Death Eaters.” 

“And does your charming personality help you catch that quaffle?” retorted Harry.

“You call that a zinger?” He took Harry’s pizza and put it in the oven with his. He closed the oven door. “You and your anchovy pizza disgust me.” 

Harry leaned against the counter and pulled his wand out, trying to remember the incantation that would help wipe down the kitchenette. There was a book that Molly had gifted Gid when he’d first moved in, but knowing him it was probably being used to help prop a table or used as a doorstopper. “Who was the last witch you’ve dated?” 

A high color flushed Gid’s face. He stood with his back stiff against the oven, wearing a flowery apron that was doing nothing to help him. “How about you?” 

Harry quirked an eyebrow. He searched his thoughts and tried to think of a time when Gid had mentioned seeing anybody. Actually, was there anyone after Hogwarts? “It was Daphne. You know that and stop answering a question with a question, it’s getting old.”

There was a moment’s pause. 

“It was nice at first and had ended in a trainwreck,” Gid said, obviously omitting more details. “I think I’m just going to focus on my career for now.” 

“I’m sorry,” said Harry. He awkwardly patted his friend’s arm, thinking back to when Daphne had ended thing abruptly with him and how much that had hurt. He wanted to say something truly consoling. He mentally went through the list of names, but had a hard time figuring out who would be a good fit. She would have to like Quidditch a lot, be able to endure a Weasley Christmas Dinner, a sense of humor… “I think any witch would be lucky to have you.” 

Gid gave him a funny sort of smile. “The same to you. I mean, even though you’re sorta all short and specky and everything.” 

“Shut up.” 

“And you nag,” Gid continued. “You put weird stuff on your pizza and you’re finicky about picking Quidditch teams, and let’s not get started on how your slurp your noodles. I had hoped Hermione had instilled manners in you ages ago.” 

Harry poked him in the chest. “You’re too tall and you’re just covered in freckles. And once you get started, you never shut up about Quidditch and you get all petty when things don’t go your way. You also have this weird thing about talking back to the wireless, and you snore so loudly that I can hear you in my room— _and stop laughing!”_  

Gid rocked on the balls of his feet, his forehead nearly touching Harry’s. He could breathe in the scent of the woodsy shampoo from the recent shower and the yeast from cooking dinner. The red-haired wizard’s brown eyes were bright and lively again, and Harry had to smile at seeing him like his actual self. Seeing Gid despondent was like seeing a snitch suddenly lose flight. 

“Thanks,” he said. “I needed that.”

* * *

 

“George, stop stealing all my beer.” 

“Never!” George proclaimed. He stuck his head out of the fridge and dangled a bottle from his fingers. “Not my fault that you have the good stuff, little brother.” 

“Come on,” Harry said. “We’re here to talk about Ron’s bachelor party and not commit petty thievery.” 

“Can you arrest him?” Gid asked. His nudged Harry’s knee with his. “Please be my big, strong Auror.” 

“George,” said Charlie from a chair. He had a bottle of something cold and a list in front of him. “We’re supposed to be thinking of ways to torture Ron. It’s time to do your brotherly duty!”

That got his attention. George cheered and jumped over the couch, landing between Harry and Gid. “Here it is, boys. We have two more to go after this.”

“Two?” said Harry.

“You and Gid, yeah.” 

Bill pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ugh, let’s not go that far. Harry, as Best Man, what are your plans so far?” 

“Nothing,” Harry admitted. 

Gid swiped George’s beer from his hands. “It’s true. He’s a hopeless Best Man. I don’t recommend him for future weddings.” 

“Thanks.” 

There was a collection of groans from around the room. Harry had the rest of the Weasley sons sans Ron over to help plan the bachelor party. With his lack of a social life and little desire to go to clubs, he wasn’t sure what to do exactly. Was a Canons theme a good idea? Should it be at the Hog’s Head? Who would they invite? The more Harry thought about it, the more truthful Gid’s joking words meant and how horrifying the idea was becoming.

What were Ron and Hermione _thinking_ about making him the Best Man? 

George clapped him on the back, making him jump. “But this is your chance! Imagine all the ways that you can humiliate them in front of their closest friends and family members! Think of all the gold that you have on them, think of how beautiful your speech will be!” 

Gid opened his mouth to say that the speech was only half done, but Harry sneaked a hand behind George to pinch him. 

He would think of something. 

Eventually.

* * *

 

 _...Harry twisted around and elbowed Gid who was lounging behind him on the couch, barely giving Harry any room to sit. “Stop it, you’re distracting me. I need to finish this.”_

_Gid made a displeased noise before kissing his neck again. “Just think—“ And another one at his pulse point. “Of this—“ Then at the spot below the ear. “As inspiration. One epic love story to another.” Harry hummed happily as the kissing continued to go down his neck. He dropped the quill, thinking that he’ll get back to the speech later._

_“And here I thought you were trying to seduce me, Gideon.” Harry laughed as his glasses were taken off his face._

_“Me? Seduce my boyfriend? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Gid leaned in closer. His face was entirely transparent; the emotions showing through were brighter than the sparks in his eyes. Harry felt a warm glow grow inside of him. “Okay, maybe a little.”_

_"Keep it coming. I think I’ll be needing more inspiration.” Harry yanked on the front of Gid’s shirt to kiss him…_

Harry almost fell out of his bed. His pillow slid out of his grasp, and his head hit the edge of the headboard as he stumbled back to wakefulness.

 _What the..?_ he thought, the images crashing into the surface of his conscious. Now feeling very awake, Harry was painfully aware of the echoing sound of Gid snoring nearby. That was normal, right? Friends could have dreams of friends or something like that?

 _I’m going back to sleep,_ Harry told himself. He picked up his fallen pillow and tried to get comfortable again. _And I’m going to dream about Quidditch._

Instead the next dream was about a certain Quidditch player.

 


	3. To See Me Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three has been brought to you by rereading Chapter Five of Skin Game, watching Galavant! again, and much more!
> 
> I'll fix the italicized stuff and some edits later, I have homework and finals to think about. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone that's reading!

Harry really hated his vivid imagination. He felt all of sixteen again, frustrated with the many things that were going on his life. His dreams had taken on a more nightmarish quality, being at the wedding in just his pants, or trying to read the speech from a blank piece of parchment. The weirder ones had things like Hermione running away with Malfoy, or Ron declaring that the ceremony was going to happen on Venus to 'assure that the planets are in aligned with their star signs'.

But it was Gid that was making Harry feel like a teenager. Memories and imagination were clashing at night, leaving him frustrated and sleep-deprived with things he hadn't thought about in years. They seeped into his actions in the daytime, wanting to find more ways to spend time with Gid. Harry had been seeing him more after his practices, bringing a broom and would go for a quick fly together, or would even do more domestic activities like grocery shopping or would go for a walk together. Even now, Harry found himself sneaking glances, las if he was sixteen all over again and in the Common Room again, his head turning whenever he heard Gid's laugh…

"What's wrong with me?" Harry muttered tiredly, running a hand over his face. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, the idea of getting work done (again) was a lost. He pushed the pile of parchment to the side of his desk and buried his head in his hands, unaware of someone entering his office. It was normal to think of one's friend attractive when they're stumbling back into the flat all sweaty from practice, right? Normal that Harry was having the more than the odd dream about being entangled with the redhead and doing things that couldn't fully be called platonic?

Normal. Harry had dreams and thoughts about a wizard here or there before. This had to be normal.

"Maybe everything?" answered Ron from behind, stopping the train of thought.

Harry groaned and raised his head. "You don't even know what I'm talking about." He rolled his chair around to see Ron looking nearly as tired as Harry was recently.

His friend's face appeared pale under his freckles. "I heard that George took over your Best Man plans. Is it…true?"

Harry yawned as he shrugged. "I'm not allowed to say anything. We made a pinky promise and everything."

George had been kind enough to see that Harry was struggling with his duties as the Best Man, and had offered to help with a few things like picking a place (or places) that they were going to have the bachelor party at. It was safe that Harry felt…apprehensive after reading the list. A strip club was on the top and followed by detailed notes on which clubs and bars were the best. Harry wasn't the only one, everyone except Charlie also had similar feelings about going to Circe's Cauldron (Bill had stuttered how he was happily married, and Gid's expression had turned into something like fear as he reminded everyone that their mum would somehow find out).

It gave Harry a worried feeling about George's planning skills. The amount of planning Ron's brother had done was fighting well done, and made him wonder what else George was capable of…but decided to leave it at that. If anything were to go wrong, then Harry would have no one to blame but himself.

"How bad do you think it's going to end?" Ron nervously wrung his hands together in his lap. "It's not that I don't trust George or anything, but he's still the same brother that made me eat an acid pop, and there was that time with the Unbreakable Vow, and the—"

"I get it. You think you're doomed." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. The images of the Twins torturing Ron over the years flashed through his mind (the teddy bear turning into a spider, the time he almost created the aforementioned Unbreakable Vow, various incidents when they'd slipping things in his food…). He should stop by the shop sometime and draw some lines again about boundaries….

"You like living with Gid?" Ron asked suddenly. He shifted in his chair, putting his feet up on Harry's desk.

Harry pushed Ron's feet off. "You know, mate, he's my favorite Weasley. He doesn't scar me for life after catching him with his fiancée at three in the morning—"

"One time! That happened once!"

"And he's attentive to my needs and he doesn't ask me to leave the flat." Harry narrowed his eyes, accusingly looking at his best friend.

Ron sighed. "Two years, Harry. Did you actually think you were going to live with us after the wedding? You've been stuck in this rut for a while. We were getting worried and sometimes you need a good push—"

"Hey, Harry," said Susan. She poked her head through, ignoring how Ron squawked at her sudden entrance. "Daphne's here, I thought you would like to know in case you needed to brood in a corner somewhere before seeing her."

Ron's head perked up as Harry's went down.

It had surprised everyone that Ron was the first one to warm up to he when she and Harry had dated. Daphne was (even more surprisingly) also a fevered fan of the Cannons, and that had left the two plenty to bond about. Next to Harry, he'd taken the breakup hard and was caught in an awkward middle between the two, his best friend in the entire world and one of the few people in the Wizarding World that understood his passion for Britain's worst Quidditch team.

"Yeah," said Harry. Apprehension rolled in his stomach. "Tell her to come in." Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry had to literally push him out of the room before his ex-girlfriend could enter.

Daphne Greengrass was a formidable witch that Harry had gotten to know after the War. During a Ministry function, they were siting near each other, giving the most sarcastic commentary as possible about the speeches and certain guests (there was an endless supply about Draco Malfoy and his date that he had been rumored to pay to bring with him). Harry liked her quick wit and insightfulness, and had asked her out for a drink a month later the event. She was passionate about her job as a private (and one of the few licensed in Wizarding Britain) investigator (something that would sometimes clash with his job), and someone that Harry had found a lot of support in.

Harry had fallen hard. And Daphne had fallen…slightly softer. Life, it had intended for him again, shouldn't go as smoothly as he would have hoped. Just two years ago, a year after moving in with her, Daphne had sat him down and told him clearly and plainly that they should end things.

"Did I do something wrong?" Harry had said, wringing his hands together.

"Where do you see us in a few years?" she had asked.

That was when Harry had realized that they had very different ideas of a future. He was starting to entertain himself with the thoughts of finding an actual house, perhaps the possibility of a ring. Daphne wanted noting more than to dismantle the power structure that her old housemates had created, wanting to put her career first.

It wasn't bad that they had such different goals.

It was just different.

Daphne had sensed that their relationship wouldn't be able to progress much after their talk. Harry had to grudgingly agree in the wake after the breakup.

She hadn't changed much since he had last seen her years ago. The only distinct difference was that her wheat-colored hair was cut to her jawline instead of flowing down her back, emphasizing the sharpness of her face. Seeing her hit him with a strong blast of nostalgia that a part of him still missed, and Harry hated that part of himself that was unable to let go.

"Been reading the headlines lately." The corner of her mouth tilted in a grin. "I was wondering when you were going to move out."

His earlier assumption from several weeks ago had been right. After Harry had moved in, there was a series of speculative reports from all things Daily Prophet to Witch Weekly, all wondering what had made the famed 'Golden Trio' split up and made The Boy-Who-Lived (The Man-Who-Conquered, The Chosen One, Witch's Weekly's Most Elusive Bachelor for five years in a row…) move in with Puddlemere's Chaser that was now a rising star. There were many, many theories that the four of them had laughed about when they would all get together.

A personal favorite (found in a seedy rag that was on the floor of The Leaky Cauldron) was that Harry had found out that Ron and Hermione had actually been bribed into being his friends, making them spies even when they were overly curious small children at Hogwarts. Harry was apparently, as according to the article that was titled Potter: Betrayed and Blinded by one Romilda Vane, licking his wounds and gathering allies to take Ron and Hermione to court. There was more about the use of a love potion and how, to quote, 'nothing should ever be trusted by a family so poor, as they had brought people into their home for obvious personal gain'.

It was easily the most laughable thing that he had read in ages.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, Ron and Hermione said I was hitting a rut or something and they got worried." Harry made a small face before shaking his head. "I'm doing better now. I have a roommate that's also depressingly single and is a workaholic. See? Nothing to worry about!" He looked down at his feet, cursing to himself for adding the last part.

"Birds of a feather, I see." She took Ron's abandoned seat and crossed her legs as she brought a list out. Daphne bit her thumb, appearing sheepish. "Sorry to spring this on you, but there's this case and I need more details."

"Anything exciting?" Harry asked, tapping his cabinet with his wand.

"Creepy potion maker with a record. His name is Terence Higgs and he has a very weak chin that his goatee can't hide." Daphne fidgeted in her seat. "I could come later, or…"

"I don't mind helping." Harry was aware of the pitch in his voice, and he searched through the Hs, but came up short. "Susan or Ron should have the report if it's been in the last five years. I can go ask any of them—"

"It's fine." Daphne stood to her feet and brushed some imaginary wrinkles out of her skirt. "I know where those offices are."

There was a pause of pained silence between them.

She turned to leave.

"Teddy misses you!" blurted Harry suddenly. "He's coming by this weekend to the Burrow, and you're always free to…."

Daphne raised a hand, her face fixed in a neutral mask that she often ore during her work. "Harry…I'm sorry but it could be awkward." 

"We could make it less awkward." 

"I'm sorry, but it is already very awkward," she said.

Daphne didn't spare him another look before she left.

Harry found Ron waiting outside. They both watched Daphne go down the hall and saw the door close behind her when she entered Susan's office.

"So," Ron said, leaving the rest of his sentence empty.

Harry sighed. "Maybe you were a little right about being stuck…"

* * *

 His mood lifted by the time the weekend happened, and he was having a lovely Sunday Brunch with the Weasley family. Everyone and then some were there. Bill and Fleur brought their two children; little Dominique who was napping pleasantly with Freddy throughout the chaos. George was chatting to Percy's girlfriend that worked as a secretary in the ICW, trying to get her to agree about opening a new WWW shop in Romania, even Teddy was running around, Andromeda letting him work off the excess energy, trying to goad each of the adults to play with him. Only one would leave the table at a time to play a quick game of Tag outside in the cold before losing graciously to the five-year-old, and then returning to happily eat their meal.

Hermione collapsed in her seat next to Harry's. Her cheeks were bright pink and her breaths came out in little puffs. "Goodness, what has that boy been eating?" She looked to Ron who was the second most likely person at the table to give the boy sweets.

"N'uh!" Ron said convincingly around his chicken. He averted her gaze a second too late.

Hermione huffed and then looked at Harry.

Harry pointed at Ron and seconds later had to duck the peas that were catapulted at him.

"You two are adults!" she said, her grin still appearing.

"Really? That's news to me," Harry said, smiling as he heard Gid laughing.

"Don't you know by now that they're hopeless?" he joined them as Teddy dragged Angelina outside. Gid took the abandoned seat next to Harry.

Ron took a large swallow before speaking. "Yeah, luv. You should be proud of him right now, he did some growing up over the week."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, pleased. She pinched his cheek.

Gid laughed some more. His thigh pressed was against Harry's. "What's this amazing moment of adulthood that you've done?"

Harry looked down at his meal as Ron said happily, "Harry saw Daphne and handled it pretty well."

Mrs Weasley loud voice carried through. "How is she? Dear Merlin, I haven't heard that name in a while, Harry, is she well? I miss having her around."

Harry mumbled something. He pushed the parsnips around his plate.

"Ron," Hermione sighed.

"What? I can't be proud of him? He used to be in a strop for ages if he even read about her in the paper." Ron clapped Harry on the back. "But you came out all right—better than I expected."

Harry jumped as someone touched his knee. He raised his head slightly and saw Gid's worried expression. _You okay?_ Gid mouthed.

Harry shook his head from side to side. Yes, he was personally glad that he wasn't playing any of Warbeck's Top Five in his room by himself with a carton of ice cream, but that didn't meant he wanted everyone to hear about it.

Gid nodded. He squeezed Harry's knee under the table. Harry felt a jolt that wasn't public embarrassment course through him. "Oi, Ron! I saw Lavender the other day—"

Ron went quiet and his face turned maroon, an impressive feat. While everyone else had made peace (and the fact that Lavender was now happily with and nearly married to someone else), Ron was now prone to doing the most extravagant escapes if they were even in the same area. Their ill time together had left a deeper, more embarrassing scar on his psyche.

On one memorable occasion had Ron managed to lock himself inside Kingsley's office at the Ministry. Harry had fun watching the Minister let out a booming laugh at hearing Ron's stuttering explanation.

Thankfully for Gid's sake, Teddy arrived at the right time and tugged at Ron's hand. "Uncle Ronnie," the boy said sweetly. His hair became Weasley-red as he pouted. "Will you plaaaaaay with me?"

'Uncle Ronnie' made a rude gesture at Gid ("Not in front of him!" scolded Andromeda), and allowed himself to get led away by Teddy.

There was a beat of silence.

"Daphne's doing well, yeah?" Gid asked first. He withdrew his hand and started to work on his roast beef.

"Yeah," Harry said after a moment to himself. 'She's working on a case, actually."

"We are, you know," said Hermione awkwardly, "proud of you. If Ron hadn't said anything we might have never noticed."

"You haven't been brooding more than usual," Gid agreed. His smile went away when Harry raised an eyebrow. "Sorry." He put a large piece of beef in his mouth to shut himself up.

"Am I allowed to miss her a little bit?" Harry said. He ran a hand through his hair.

"It's perfectly normal," Hermione said. She patted his arm. "The first major romance is usually the hardest to shake off."

"But Cho and I are friends, with Daphne…it feels weird." Harry thought about. "It's like we forgot to say something in the end."

Gid groaned. "Whatever you do, don't tell Ron that a part of you may forever long for Kru—ow!" He rubbed at the spot where she flicked him.

"I remember what you were like when Parvati broke your heart," she said thinly. Harry remembered it, too. Gid had sulked for an entire week after the breakup in his Fourth Year when returning from the Winter Holiday. It had made the DA meetings awkward for a time whenever they both attended the meetings.

"She didn't just break it," Gid said happily, raising his fork as he punctuated his point. "She stepped on it, cursed it, and tied it off with a nice jinx or two." He narrowed his eyes on the piece of roast beef that was still on his fork and chewed on it thoughtfully. "I'm on her holiday card list. The pictures of her family are really adorable."

"See, Harry?" Hermione pointed to Gid. "And you were able to move on and be happy."

"With D—" Gid suddenly went pale and coughed. "With someone else, yeah. I think that ended worst than it did with Parvati."

"And look who's back!" Harry waved at Ron who was red-faced, matching the shade of Teddy's hair.

"Is Uncle Ronnie a loser?" his godson asked. "I got 'em twice!"

"Only to us, but that's because we love him." Harry ruffled Teddy's head. "How about some dessert?"

He left his seat and went to the counter on the other side of the kitchen to see what Molly had made for them. Also there were George, Charlie, and Bill. They were all talking animatedly about something over their éclairs and biscuits.

"Let's do that," said George.

"Do what?" Harry asked, ready to cover Teddy's ears if it was about the upcoming party.

"We're thinking of having a nice match while it isn't sh—bad," Bill quickly amended as Teddy looked up curiously. "While the weather isn't really bad outside."

Harry broke a chocolate biscuit in half and gave one end to his godson. "I'm in."

"While you're at it," said Charlie. He craned his neck to look over Harry's shoulder. "Go see where my little brothers have gone off to if we're going to play."

"I wanna play!" Teddy piped up. As soon as those words had left his mouth, Andromeda appeared by his side, ready to list him the reasons why he shouldn't.

Harry hadn't noticed that Gid and Ron had even vanished from the kitchen. He left the joyful chaos of the room and went to go find them. It hadn't taken him long to hear the hushed voices in one of the empty bedrooms a floor up. The door wasn't fully closed, but he could see them gesturing wildly to each other. "

I'm not fifteen anymore! You don't have to protect me!"

"I'm just worried—" Ron tried to say, but his brother interrupted.

"Then stop! Stop being worried about me all the time. I'm an adult, Ron." Harry kept himself still, anticipating what was going to be said next. "Sometimes you treat me like I'm five and I hate it."

Harry had the sinking suspicion that there was a lot more to the conversation. He was tied between letting them air it out, or to just barge in.

Curiosity lost for once, and Harry knocked on the door, opening it some more.

Ron and Gid jumped.

"Hey," said Harry. "We're doing a match. Do you two…" He fell silent as he saw that both wizards were staring at him and that the feeling was tense in the room. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Gid said gruffly. He blinked a few time and stared intensely over Harry's head. He brushed past Harry, throwing over his shoulder and said, "going to kick your arse, Ron!"

They could hear him almost stomping down the stairs.

Harry looked at Ron.

"Not my fault that he's so stubborn." Ron rubbed his long nose, frowning. "Yeah, he'll come around one day…" he said as if to convince himself.

* * *

 Once outside with brooms and Quidditch gear, Charlie gleefully rubbed his hands together as he saw who wanted to play.

"A professional Quidditch player up against the best Seeker at Hogwarts, I have to referee this." Charlie stuck two fingers into his mouth and gave an ear-splitting whistle. "Okay, go pick a side and winner gets…" He looked over at Harry and Gid.

"Laundry for a week?" Harry suggested.

Charlie clutched his heart in apparent pain. "Domesticity."

"Hope you like washing incredibly smelly socks," Gid said, grinning.

They kicked off into the air and started playing.

Quidditch always reminded Harry fondly of Hogwarts (as long as he selectively avoided any parts about Dementors lurking, House-Elves cheating, teachers jinxing, skulls fracturing, and anything to do with Umbridge). He loved the feeling of the wind in his hair, the thrill of the chase, but most of all, a good part of him really loved winning. There were plenty of good memories that came from winning, and had helped him before with doing a Patronus Charm.

There was nothing like the collective euphoria of his team coming together, everyone cheering loudly, so glad that everything had finally paid off (or with the added bonus of decimating the Slytherin team). It was the kind of joy that would settle in his veins for ages, and nothing even Snape could have had stopped Harry from feeling that happy. Soon, Harry found himself remembering one of the times they had won the Cup…

_...Harry entered the Common Room and his surroundings exploded with cheers. Then all Harry saw was the blazing look on Gid's face. Harry rushed to meet him and was suddenly picked off his feet as the taller wizard pulled him into a hug._

_"We won!" Gid cheered, whooping with delight. His feet fumbled and they fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs, heads knocking together. All Harry could see for a moment was a wide pair of brown eyes, and a mouth perfectly shaped in a single 'O'._

_Groaning, Harry raised his head and saw Ron holding the trophy high in the air, a myriad of expressions on his face, Hermione appearing interested about something, and there was Dean looking oddly annoyed. Harry felt confused along with the euphoria of winning…_

"Potter, look alive!" Ron barked. He ducked George's gleefully-aimed Bludger.

Harry shook himself free of the memory, and urged himself to look more. There was Gid smiling distractingly, his face was like the sun. He was close, but the flash of gold in Harry's peripheral was also near. They both moved simultaneously as the Snitch moved between them almost mockingly. It darted away from his roommate's reach and flew closer back down to the earth.

Harry dove first.

They were truly neck-to-neck, both trying to move the other's hand away as the Snitch grew tantalizingly closer…

Suddenly, Harry felt Gid's arms go around him, tumbling and hitting the frozen ground in a bruised pile of arms and legs.  _Merlin_ , Harry's head throbbed and his vision was all of a sudden blurry and then blocked by the shape of the red-haired wizard that was looming over him. Harry had his forearm pined awkwardly under his back as the other was preventing Gid from crushing him with his weight.

"Harry!" Gid gasped. "Are you—you're bleeding!"

"And," Harry croaked, feeling something wet and warm on his fingers when he touched the side of his head.

The fear grew in Gid's eyes. "And what?"

"Is he all right?" Ron said worriedly. Hermione gasped next to him.

Harry managed to unpin his trapped arm. He uncurled his fingers and smiled as the Snitch bobbed in the air. "Professional Quidditch Player, my arse. You just got crushed by your old captain."

Gid let out a string of pained curses. Harry's smile grew. "How do you feel about starting right away, Gideon? Because now everything is just covered in sweat and dirt. Some blood, too."

For the rest of the week, Gid had not only did Harry's laundry, he also had taken the opportunity to refer to Harry as 'Captain Specky Smarmy Arse' the entire time.

* * *

 The next few dreams Harry had were the random memories fluttering over the edge of his conscious, some of them were of him and Gid flying at the grounds of Hogwarts, or joining him in the pond near the Burrow. Then they would take an imaginary (yet very desirable) aspect of pressing the younger wizard against the lockers of the changing rooms, or the idea of Gid kissing over the scars of Harry's narrow chest. It was always just the two of them, and would leave Harry staring at his door after each one. It urged him to leave his room and go to Gid's, coming clean abut the dreams and surfaced feelings. That night wasn't any different.

_…in the tangle of arms and legs, Harry decided to kiss him without a single care in the world. Gid's arms came around him, kissing back with the same, if possibly more, vigor. Harry's hands found themselves threading through the red hair as Gid's squeezed Harry's forearms, nearly melting into him._

_Even after being out in the cold and now bruised, it felt like Harry was walking into a sudden patch of bright sunlight. He was feeling feverishly warm as Gid rolled to his back, those eyes merely a dark rim of brown surrounded full pupils, staring at Harry almost daringly._

_"You have a lot of nerve," he growled, determined fingers tugging at the Quidditch gear and coat._

_"Yeah, I blame you for it." Harry smiled cheekily before giving the wizard a deeper kiss, pressing their flushed bodies together…_

_That's it,_ Harry decided the second that he woke, decision fueled by the dream that was slipping through his mind's fingers and from the lack of actual sleep. He kicked off the sheets and bedding, padding out of his room and saw that he wasn't the only one that was awake.

Harry rubbed his eyes to be sure. There was Gid at the table with a fresh pot of tea next to him. The dream stuff of a warm mouth and murmured words rested at the edge of his startled conscious, but started to move away as he became more aware of reality. There wasn't much definition in his growing feelings that needed to be sorted, no feeling of a loved one touching him with their hands or mouth, all of that was purely a wanted fantasy concocted by someone that was lonely. In reality, there were two tired wizards up at the early hours of the morning by internal means that they couldn't control.

It was a very depressing thought.

"What are you doing up?" Harry asked.

"Shitty nightmares." Gid raised his cup. "Bit of the war, bit of the Chamber, mostly a terrifying mess that comes back to haunt me every now and then." His laugh was uncharacteristically cold and small. "Don't you hate how it all comes back without warning?"

Harry grabbed himself a chair, feeling the echoes of those times reverberating deep inside of him, pushing away the pent-up desire and remains of the dream that were getting fainter and fainter.

Five years later, and they were all still scarred and scared. Harry was proud of his progress, how being with the Aurors gave him the means and techniques to channel his feelings, to help give him a purpose when it felt the world was becoming too big or uncertain. He was now able to handle large crowds of people without feeling too overwhelmed, and no longer flinched as much when someone had raised their wand at him.

But the nightmares. There were always the nightmares that made the progress feel nearly worthless. It was the mental state that he was in after one, how it sent him back to the war and everything was chaos and pain. What felt like too many nights, Harry would wake up, trapped under the webbing of old memories and fears that would leach into the daytime, making it harder for him to function. He knew everyone had those days. Sometimes Harry would have trouble getting out of bed and interacting with people, Ron would get very hair-triggered and would jump even at even hearing a raised voice, Hermione would feel the phantom pain and her hands would shake with the memories of the Cruciatus...

"I don't like it," murmured Gid over his tea. There was this certain weariness in him that Harry recognized in the summer after the War. The one that he associated with the trepidation of waking each other from a nightmare and not knowing what to expect, and spending long hours talking together in the hammock. "I feel so weak with those memories. I don't like to remember being eleven or sixteen again. I feel so hopeless."

Harry reached over for Gid's hand. "I think you're strong. Look at you. Come on, you were able to go back to Hogwarts of all places. I even had trouble with visiting the castle. Despite everything, you were there and now you're building a good life for yourself. We're all proud of you."

Harry remembered the small boy that was covered in tears and water in the dark Chamber, how his freckled face slowly regained color again throughout the year only to have his nightmare eventually return in the flesh. Flashes of Gid throughout the years went through Harry's mind: His jaw set in determination as he tried to cast the Patronus Charm, playing a game of two-sided Quidditch outside the Burrow, being one of his last friends that Harry saw before walking to death… There was a presence that Gid carried that he could almost always notice.

"Your letters helped." Gid's thumb ran over the back of Harry's knuckles, causing the sensation of gooseflesh. "Don't know where I would be today if you weren't writing me something or visiting, even seeing me for my matches. It still means a lot to me that you were always there."

Words were lodged in Harry's throat. "I, uh, I…" Their eyes meet, and Harry was surprised to see how bright his friend's eyes were. They were dark and gleaming like the polish walnut handle of a good broom.

"Thank you," Gid said softly. His smile was warm, like the touch of his hand (in the depths of his mind, Harry wondered if he could recognize the other wizard by touch alone). "I never got around to saying that, now did I?" He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. "Look at the time, not much long until I have to leave for practice." Gid walked behind Harry, a freckled hand touching his shoulder. "I really mean it, you know. You're a good person, Harry. You've done a lot without even knowing. It's what I like about you." 

Gid left to retire in his room and Harry watched him go with his head swimming with unsaid words and moments. He was now sure about a few things and confused about the rest.


	4. Calamity at -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quick explanation is that university is stressful when your dreams are crushed, and especially when you almost become legally blind. 
> 
> Fun stuff. 
> 
> Expect part two in the near future? Ish?

It wasn't that Harry meant to procrastinate his sexuality.

It was just that it was hard to figure out why he also felt some attraction to other classmates when there were more pressing matters, like surviving the school year, defeating dark wizards, and winning Quidditch matches.

(But Quidditch matches made Harry think of the one at the Burrow; where there was a perfect opportunity to—No, he shouldn't think of that.)

The constant threat of death over his head had made things difficult, for sure, a damper on most aspects of his love life, for one. But it wasn't like Harry had the actual time to figure out the trickiness that came with feelings and all the kinds of attraction that kept him up late at night. He never had the time. No one had told him that it was okay to also think that Cedric Diggory had lovely eyes while he also daydreamed about Cho. He never…there just wasn't…it was…

It was why he was standing outside after work. He could go home, but Gid was probably there already. He could go to Ron and Hermione's, but he could already hear Hermione's voice echoing in his head ("What do you mean you've procrastinated trying to figure out your own…  _Unbelievable_ , honestly, Harry. Here, read these books…"). Or he could go to Luna's, but the thought of her trying to put nargles and sexuality in the same sentence was a terrifying one. Go to the Burrow, then?  _Molly and Arthur,_ he thought, trying to even form the words mentally _. I might have a small amount of feelings about your youngest son. You know, the one that I currently live with…_

(Harry tried forming the words with his lips, but the internal struggle was too much.)

What would they think? Already, a part of him remembered being small and afraid, with Uncle Vernon looming over him.

" _Freak."_

But that couldn't be right for the Wizarding World, was it? Harry knew that people were happy for Dean and Seamus being together, and for a number of other couples, too. Except that everyone  _knew_. Everyone knew that Dean and Seamus had harbored feelings for each other since their early years back at Hogwarts. Everyone knew that Tracy Davis and Demelza Robbins had danced together at the Yule Ball; they all knew what they liked at a young age, and Harry never had that sort of luxury. Had he done something wrong along the way?

Had he? Harry couldn't deny that he once had definite feelings for Cho Chang and Daphne Greengrass, but—there was always a but—did he also had crushes the likes of Cedric Diggory and Oliver Wood? Harry was having a hard time trying to separate what he had assumed was admiration from maybe… _maybe…_ Was there even a word for someone like him? Harry knew that he talked little about his feelings,but perhaps the War or even the Dursleys had harmed in other ways.

The rational part of his brain (the part that sounded suspiciously similar to Ron and Hermione's voices), said that he should at least talk about these feelings. But shaking his his head, Harry continued his slow walk down the street and tried to collect his rambling thoughts. Snow and wind whipped at his exposed face, but the sharp cold brought a sense of clarity to his mind that he desperately needed.

 _But you like him a lot, don't you?_  said that conspiring voice in the back of his mind.

 _He's just my friend_ , Harry tried to argue, stuck in denial.

_So? Ron and Hermione were 'just friends', and look at them now. They've always liked each other._

_He's Ron's brother!_   _The Weasleys are like family to me._

_That's not a very good excuse. You like how he makes you laugh, you like being so comfortable around him, you like flying against him, you like how he reaches out to you, you like how he looks fresh from practice, you like how his hand feels in yours, you like—_

_Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!_

Clenching his teeth, Harry pressed the palms of his hands to his temples, and tried not to scream at his own frustration.

An elderly woman nearby stopped walking and gave him a strange look. "Are you all right?"

"Peachy," Harry said through his teeth. He took his frustration out by kicking at some snow.

* * *

Eventually, Harry arrived to the flat later than usual. Methodically, he hanged his jacket, took his boots off, and checked to see if the rooms were empty. Satisfied with the silence, he went to his room and pulled the shameful Wheezes product out of his jean pocket—a violently orange box that had the image of a swooning woman in the arms of a muscular man.

"Just a harmless fantasy," Harry told himself. He carefully avoided looking at any of the pictures that he had in his room of the Weasley family. "It'll take the edge off, and the feelings will go away.  _Poof_. Like that."

He looked again at the box. He opened it and held the orange-and-purple capsule in his hand.

"Cheers to terribly articulated feelings," he muttered before swallowing the capsule. He grimaced at the sugary taste that immediately filled his mouth.

Harry couldn't remember his head falling on the pillow.

Harry slowly woke later with the lingering taste of too many Sugar Quills in his mouth. He was half in his room, cocooned in his many layers of blankets; and half in the romance plot that only the likes of George could create with the help of  _The Dear and the Dashing_ books.

It had been entirely ridiculous. Too many unicorns, for one—and very little made any sense between the anachronisms with the clothing styles and Shakespearean dialogue. There had been a fairytale-like adventure that had lasted for only an hour, but it somehow crammed in too many plots that it felt like a bloated story of someone trying too hard—but one thing was entirely clear that Harry could no longer shy away from.

He rubbed the scar on his forehead, the realization was bright as day.

And it took a bloody  _Wheezes_  product for that to cement itself in his brain.

"I like him," Harry admitted out loud for the first time. He felt all of his teenage self again, that prickly and frustrated sensations that came with unrequited feelings, and unfurling warmth under his breastbone that fizzed through his veins of actually  _having_  feelings for someone. "I like him," Harry repeated. "Bloody hell, I have a crush on Ron's brother."

 _You move in with Gid,_  he thought, shuffling out of bed with a blanket wrapped around him like a shawl _. Avoid the killer plants, sure! But there's a chance you'll develop ridiculous romantic notions, and is now putting your sexuality in question! What a life you live, Harry._

The killer plants were starting to look like a nice option.

Harry left his room and went to the bathroom to brood more. He maturely made a face at his exhausted expression in the mirror, eyes crossed and tongue sticking out.

"Pull yourself together. It's just a crush." He turned the faucet on and splashed some cold water in his face. "You'll get over it." He blinked the water out of his eyes, and saw denial being shown in them in the mirror.

Reaching for his toothbrush, Harry vividly remembered parts of the Patented Daydream Charm that was now going to become even more present in his dreams.  _Bloody Quidditch trousers. Why do they have to be so tight?_ But those weren't the only thoughts that Harry was having.

He solemnly stared at his reflection. "And Gideon must never know."

Another realization came unexpectedly, and Harry dropped his toothbrush.

"Wait, did this meant that I had a crush on  _Malfoy?!"_

The world could really be unfair at times.

Harry later entered the kitchen after brooding some more in his room, and saw Gid stirring something in a pot that smelled wonderful.

"There you are! Thought I was going to need to send a Patronus to your room." He held a wooden spoon out. "Does this taste okay to you? I think I overdid it with the basil."

Harry tasted the tomato soup, but was more distracted by what was on the table. He cocked his head to the side, clutching the edges of the blanket that kept him warm. "Are those cheese toasties?"

There was a plate of them on the table, all golden brown and smelling heavenly.

"It's because a certain someone refused to wake up, and I had to think of something." Gid shook his head, sighing sadly.

Harry's stomach plummeted as a full bowl was pushed towards him.

_Shite._

"D-dreams?" he said.

"Yeah, I kept hearing some weird mumbling from your room." Gid loftily raised a hand, the other pinching the bridge of his nose, imitating old Professor Trelawney's tone. "What is your subconscious trying to tell you, young Harry?"

"That you're a wanker who adds too much basil," Harry said. He made a show of tearing into a piece of a cheese toastie, dumping the other half of in his bowl to soak up some soup. Gid was a wanker, but he knew how to cook (even if Ron was the closest Weasley to recreate anything close to Molly's abilities).

They moved to the couch to listen to the wireless. With a flick of Harry's wand and a silent incantation, a cheery fire was warming the flat. They silently listened to some soap opera program that was terribly addicting, but nevertheless, had them riveted.

"Are you and Ron okay?" Harry asked during a commercial break. Things had been somewhat frosty between the two brothers as of late. It was awkward getting together, always feeling like he was interrupting something important that then consisted of tightened jawlines and crossed expressions.

"Oh, you know how Ron is." Gid stared at the wireless, frown lines forming on his forehead. "He wants everybody to be happy. Getting to be like Mum when harping about my lack of a love life…"

"There's nothing wrong with that," said Harry, chewing on the last of his crust, "wanting people do be happy, I mean." But he then briefly thought back to the Mirror of Erised from so many years ago, how painful that happiness had felt when he'd seen his parents in the reflection of the ancient glass. That was then, but he wondered what the mirror would show now?Would he still see his parents? Would he see his life and the one of his friends' untouched by a war?

It was a tantalizing idea, wanting to know what your heart's desire was so clear and obvious in front of you.

 _And what do I desire? What do I want?_  He wondered, letting his gaze rest on his friend for a moment. Did he wanted to throw caution to the wind and try a new relationship?

Gid shrugged. "There's being happy because of what my family wants, and then there's being happy because I want it." He pushed himself more into the couch, as if he could escape his problems by disappearing into the cushions.

Harry looked at him. "Are you happy?"

Gid paused. "Yeah? How about you?"

Harry thought about. "I…yeah? We need to get more creative with our answers," he said. He tried forming a list of things that were appropriate to say. "Look, I'm living with someone that I care about who doesn't own a homicidal plant, and my best friends are getting married in a week. I think that things are looking good; therefore, I am happy." He stopped speaking to let out a small laugh. "Are you  _blushing?"_

The red-haired wizard pointedly looked away. "You have that effect on people."

"You're blushing," Harry said, amused as the fair, freckled skin turned to a deep, blotchy red. "Your skin changes quicker than Teddy's does." He had to dodge a pillow that bounced off the side of his head. Laughing, Harry ducked again as another pillow was thrown. "Some Chaser you are!"

They tried to settle down and listen to the program, but Harry couldn't stop himself.

"Do you miss anything about being in a relationship?" he asked suddenly, immediately hating himself for saying it.

"I, uh…" Gid gaped, his blush returning. "Merlin, I miss a lot of things."

"Relaxing," Harry said. "I miss being able to do nothing with someone." He thought of the times when he and Daphne were curled up under an old blanket near the fireplace, just listening to the soft roar of the fire.

Covering his face with his hands, Gid admitted, "I'm going to sound terribly shallow, but I miss kissing—and sex, there's that—but I miss being intimate with someone, emotionally and physically."

Harry laughed, but silently agreed. "I bet your dates think that you're the Giant Squid—all arms and legs just wrapped around her in bed. And then they have to put up with your snoring."

"And yours have to put up with your short height."

Harry would have rolled his eyes, but he was too far back in thought, reminiscing. "I miss not having Daphne to make rude comments with at those Ministry events. Do you know how sad it is to force yourself to laugh at your own jokes?"

"Sounds terrible."

"It is," he agreed. "But you know what I miss the most? I love Ron and Hermione. I really do love them, but I miss having someone that's mine." Harry looked into the fire. "Now I'm sounding selfish."

Gid nudged his knee against Harry's. "I like hearing you say stuff like that."

"What? Me being selfish?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not that, you wanker. I meant that I like hearing you say that you love Ron and Hermione. After everything that you and they told me about the Dursleys,  _and_  with all the hell you went through after, you can say that you love someone."

Harry took his time to speak. "I…I used to think that the Dursleys damaged me. Emotions, you know? Love, empathy, those are supposed to be my biggest strengths, but I still feel broken. I'm in my twenties and I still don't know how to handle my emotions."

"You're not broken," Gid argued. "You're just sensitive, you know? You're healing."

"I haven't had a serious relationship since—"

"And so have I! Listen, if nothing works out for either of us, we should just make it official and buy some crups. We can be old wizards with poorly articulated feelings and pets together."

"We have already owls, Gideon."

"They're never around!" He lowered his gaze, a hand gently pressed on Harry's arm. "Imagine how adorable it would be to have a crup or a puppy around? Those floppy ears and stumpy tail with the big eyes? Come on, Harry, don't tell me that there isn't a part of you deep down that wants a puppy?  _Please?"_

"Are you batting your eyelashes at me?"

Gid leaned forward, his head resting on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, we're adults. Being adults means that we can be responsible enough to have a puppy. Or two."

"The season starts up again at the end of February. What do you me to tell our poor crup…our poor crup…" Harry tried to think of a name for their hypothetical pet.

"Cliford the Crup," Gid prompted.

Harry reeled back. "No, we're not going to name them Cliford. That is a terrible name—you're now banned from naming in this flat."

"You have anything better?"

"I think I can think of a better name than the person who named their brother's owl  _Pigwidgeon_."

"It caught on eventually."

Harry pushed his hair out of his eyes. "No, because what am I supposed to tell Non-Cliford that his other daddy is gone for long periods because of Quidditch? And being an Auror sucks up my time, so poor, poor Non-Cliford is going to grow up in an empty flat, all alone with no one to love him because of his unfortunate name."

Gid smiled. "Okay, but have you thought of Philomena?"

"Still banned. And now I pity your future children."

"It's good to know that I won't be playing Quidditch forever, and that all you'll pity about my future spawn are the names and not their ghastly red hair and freckles." Gid thought about it. "I also pity yours."

"Please, you have no idea what my kids could be like."

"Messy hair, very near-sighted, incredible on a broom, maybe named James and Lily…"

Harry flicked the side of his his head. He said a moment later, more sobered," Hey, Gid? Promise me that you'll fall in love with someone that'll be touchy-feely with you."

"I also want you to fall in love, prat. And they better make you forget what you've missed."

"Play your cards just right, and I might change my mind about getting a crup." Harry smiled to himself, and he listened to the rest of Gid's happy ramblings about what fun it would be to have a pet in the flat. For some time, Harry wasn't exactly sure, he felt himself lulling to sleep between the gentle hum of the wireless and the content mummer of Gid's voice…

Harry woke up at some unknown time confused about the crick in his neck but warm. Something smelled good nearby, and he unconsciously moved closer to it. The scent of something woodsy and broom polish reached his nose. Harry sighed happily and nuzzled his face in the soft hair. In the soft, red hair of his friend that was very nice enough to distract him enough from the awful snoring.

 _This is platonic,_  Harry muzzily told himself, slowly coming to awareness.  _This is completely and utterly platonic, and let's ignore that I probably have to go to work soon._  He blinked a few more times and found his glasses that had fallen to the floor sometime during the night.

Harry looked again at their entwined positions with clearer eyers.

 _I am not being utterly and completely platonic,_  he decided, untangling himself from the somewhat Giant Squid-like embrace.

Gid continued snoring as Harry levitated the plates and bowls to the sink. He tried not to think about the certain scenes in the Daydream Charm, or how nice it felt to be so physically relaxed with someone again. He tried not think about possible ways of telling him about his feelings throughout the week. He tried not to think about the wedding. He tried not to think what everyone's reaction could be.

Harry simply tried not.

But he could not.

A part of him, when looking back to the sleeping figure on the couch, his gaze going soft, still had some unfortunate amount of hope about these things.

* * *

Later on that week was something that Harry was equally dreaded and excited for: Ron's Bachelor Party. The anticipation could only grow until Harry was nervously pacing in front of their fireplace, thinking that there was always something left that he still had to do.

"Should I…" Harry stopped and gestured to his face after completing a long list of assignments.

"Nah, don't shave," Gid said. "I think you're the only one that can pull it off, the stubble, I mean."

"See, I just feel more like a mess." Harry shrugged, trying to ignore the fact that they were avoiding each other's eyes.

"You don't! You look…you look rakish. I, uh,  _bollocks."_ Gid covered his face with one hand, and waved the other at Harry wildly. "Your hair, it's messy but in a good way? You have good hair. And I know we joke about your height, but you're like average height, and you're really not that scrawny anymore and your eyes are green…and they're all…" Gid gave up speaking the rest, and his threw his hands up in the air. "Opinions!"

Harry looked at him through the tops of his glasses, thinking. "You're not that bad looking yourself."

Gid lowered his arms. "Really? I'm in need of a dictionary for you, and that's all you have for me?"

Harry fiddled with the zipper of his jacket. "Freckles, uh, they're interesting?" he admitted guiltily, not wanting to see the expression on Gid's face. Those freckles were a bloody nightmare to him. Harry knew for a fact from changing in the locker rooms together that Gid had them everywhere. "And don't give me that look! You're the one that told me that my eyes are green. That new piece of information is incredible," he drawled.

Of course Gid was attractive. Harry knew that back at Hogwarts and now, and he wasn't the only one that shared that opinion. He found himself agreeing with the witches that were charmed by his warm nature and good looks.

Maturely, Gid stuck his tongue out.

They left through the Floo to join the others at Angelina and George's place; joyful laughter lingering in the air.

* * *

Coming back hours later was a different story.

"One thing I don't get," said Harry after some tense moments of silence between them as the Floo died down, "is why it's taken you so long to tell me. Don't you trust me?"

"I do!" insisted Gid.

Harry averted his gaze. "Then how come you haven't trusted me before? I mean, I've known you since you were basically ten, and you've never said anything! Everyone else seems to know but me—"

"That's not true!"

"Then what have I done?" Harry said, voice rising in the kitchen. "Tell me!"  _Because I want to be truthful to you,_ he added silently. _Why is this so hard?_

It became quiet. It was deep and penetrated the space of their small kitchen. The only sounds were the cracks and pops in the fireplace, and their breathing loud from nearly shouting.

"You see," Gid started, his voice cracking, "there's this person that I like has…he has eyes that are green as a fresh pickled toad...his hair as dark as a blackboard…" They were standing so very close now. Harry could see Gid staring at him with a blazing look in his eyes. Harry inhaled sharply as his brain started to splutter connections when Gid lowered his head; still speaking softly, "I wish he was mine, he's truly divine…"

 _(Oh,_  Harry thought, something finally clicking in the recess of memories, old and new.  _Oh_. There was a boy who blushed and could hardly speak. There was a Valentine. There was someone that pulled him out of his anger. There was comfort and chocolate being shared. There was support and laughter, smiles being traded over the years. There was exhilaration as they found each other when Gryffindor had won the Cup. There was a steady hand guiding him away from Dumbledore's body, a shoulder to lean on when everything became too much.There were arms wrapped around him, telling him to come back when he's ready.  _Oh,_  that was what it was. The realization that they could've had months…years… ages of…)

And Harry, he was—

In a series of movements through the charged air between them, Harry felt trembling hands cup the back of his head, eyelashes grazing his skin, another sharp inhale that caused his nerves to ignite and—

And they were kissing.

It was brief and nearly dream-like, leaving Harry little time to react to the feeling of fingers tangling in his hair and a feverishly warm mouth slanted over his. He gasped into the kiss; suddenly tasting the bitter alcohol that Gid had drank before. It felt like the world was tipping under Harry's feet as their bodies were pressed together, his hands reaching out to touch—

And just like that, their first and maybe only kiss was over.

They stayed still for only a moment. Dazed, Harry was painfully aware of their bodies touching; the hands that were in his hair, the thumb that was caressing the nape at the back of his neck, and his own hands that were grasping Gid's shoulders for support.

Harry opened his mouth, but found that he couldn't say anything. He tried to work through the desire that was heavy in his veins, but time slowed as fear blossomed over Gid's face.

"Fuck," he said, untangling himself in a hurry. "Fuck. Fuck.  _Fuck."_

"Gideon." Harry was finally able to speak. He shot a hand out to wrap his fingers around Gid's wrist. "Wait—"

"I-I'm sorry. Harry, I–"

Harry never found out the rest. There was a sharp  _crack_  of Apparation that reverberated in the air, and he was alone.

So much for hope.

 


	5. - Circle's Cauldron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air  
> I know I can count on you  
> Sometimes I feel like saying "Lord I just don't care"  
> But you've got the love I need  
> To see me through  
> \- You've Got the Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What time is it? Showtime! Showtime! Big and heartfelt thanks to everyone that's been leaving reviews and such on here and ao3. Seeing your responses really does help with the motivation. Reading I'll Give You the Sun and The Raven King also obviously helped.
> 
> Other notes about this chapter: some very sudden shifts in POVs, and a lot of swearing, Sorry for the shitty quality. I really wanted this to be done. I'll edit this tomorrow when I have more time.
> 
> For better quality with better representation, there's 'at sixes and sevens' that was uploaded early in April.
> 
> BUT SCREW IT. I AM UPLOADING THIS AFTER MONTHS OF AGONIZING ON MY PART!

Maybe it all started when one of Gideon Weasley's first crushes ended in blood and terror.

Tom Riddle had been handsome once, but his cruelty has transformed his face in an echo of his infamous features that haunted so many still.

"What a naive boy you are," the memory drawled. He dropped into a crouch, his form becoming more solid looking in Gid's blurring vision. "Look at what you've helped me accomplish: expelling the idiot half-giant, getting your meddlesome headmaster to flee in fear, terrifying so many of your classmates…and now your precious Harry Potter will die by my hand."

Gid struggled against the cold numbness that was crawling all over his skin, blanketing him in more layers of fear. He couldn't find the strength to even life his head from the stone floor. But had to do something—there had to be something—Ron's expression when he found out about Hermione's petrification, waking up with feathers and blood all over his robes, the isolation that Harry was experiencing—it all flashed through Gid's mind.

And Tom Riddle laughed. "Don't worry, little Weasley. Your hero will be here soon to rescue you."

 _Harry_ , Gid thought weakly. Harry was going to die because of him.

That was the last thing he could recall before the darkness claimed him.

* * *

Ron woke him up by hitting him with a pillow several times.

"You'll wake up the mummies!" his older brother scolded. He lowered his pillow, warily watching Gid with sleep-bleared eyes. His features were oddly bleached from the moonlight in Egypt. "Another nightmare, yeah?"

Gid let out some shuddering breaths. He slowly uncurled himself from the fetal position that he was in, checking to see if his hands were covered in blood and ink. The ghost of red eyes flashed in his memories. Gid's stomach rolled with nausea. "Why you gotta do that?" he croaked.

"Because I'm forced to share a room with you."

Due to the limited space at Bill's camp, rooming together had turned into inevitability with their large numbers. Poor Percy had drawn the short straw and was now forced to survive in close quarters with Fred and George.

But Ron had to deal with Gid's nightmares.

Somewhat satisfied, Ron went back to his cot that was on the other side of the small room. "You know you'll have to tell him."

Gid shot up. "Tell who _what?"_

"Harry still wants to know sent him that card…" Ron trailed off, his tone changing when he saw Gid's terrified expression. "You mean, he doesn't—

"—how do you—" Gid said at the same time. His fear spiked as he remembered Tom laughing in the Chamber…

Instead of sneering like what You-Know-Who did, Ron rolled his eye and gave an exasperated sigh. "So, you're not going to tell Harry that you like him? _Why?"_ He sounded so genuinely confused.

Because Harry had almost died because of Gid's inability to keep his mouth.

Because so many people at Hogwarts were put in danger because of him.

_Because so many things that happened that year were all his fault._

* * *

Maybe it all started when he was with Parvati. She had glossy pink lips and warm brown skin. She was easily one of the prettiest girls in Ron's year.

Her eyelashes tickled his cheek, "You'll learn," she told him, and his mouth now tasted faintly like peaches. He didn't mind because he still felt light-headed.

For the first time, he didn't think about Harry. He was okay with that.

* * *

Maybe it all started when Hermione slammed a book down in front of him.

"There," she said. "You can thank me for this later." She walked away, leaving Gid very confused and threatened by the huge book that was now in front of him.

Despite its deceiving and aged cover with the peeling leather and words, the print inside was surprisingly modern.

 _A Guide to Sexuality,_ it said.

* * *

The thing about Harry—

_Fuck._

No, the thing about Harry was that you wanted to be good because of him. The noble git inspired that in a lot of people. All of his quiet gravity made him unnoticeable to the effect he had on everyone, why it was almost impossible to tear your eyes away when he took charge of a situation.

He was simply brilliant.

And Gid was going to lose him.

"Look at that," Gid said as the golden tent rose, the decorative strands of ribbons swayed in the summer breeze. They were both sitting on either side of the window seat that was in Gid's bedroom, using the time as a moment of peace before Mum would need their help again for the wedding. "It reminds me of a cake."

Harry laughed. He nudged the side of Gid's foot. "Give yourself some time. You'll be eating the wedding cake soon enough."

"You really are leaving?" Gid hated himself for asking that. He felt so childish.

"Don't worry." Harry's smile was fleeting. "Half the danger is going against your mother's wishes."

"I…"

"Gid." Harry tugged on his sleeve, staring with those brilliantly green eyes with dark shadows underlining them. "I'm not going to be gone forever."

"Harry…" Gid said.

"And we'll be safe, honest! Hermione will make sure that Ron and I won't die from something embarrassing." Harry gave him a soft smile filled with false confidence, and his voice cracked. "I'll…I'll be fine." He was still holding Gid's sleeve and was leaning precariously close.

Even with their awkward positions of Harry kneeling between Gid's legs in the cramped and narrow space, Gid threw an arm around Harry's back and hugged him close.

It was more a surprise to feel Harry relax when he hugged back.

* * *

It was one of the months after the war when the funerals were all over and live was stuck in a strange stagnant place between the grief and need to move on. Hermione was readying herself for Hogwarts back at her parents' home, and Harry was fast asleep in one of the empty bedrooms of the Burrows.

The rest of the Weasley brothers had been outside to stare at the night sky, reminiscing on old family memories and shared stories, now most had returned back to their respective rooms save for two of them.

Ron hiccupped and raised his half-empty glass of Firewhiskey. "I really, _really_ love 'ermione." He blinked and realized what he had said. "Ah, shit. I'm going to fuck this all up."

"But you love her?" Gid said. For all he knew, Ron and Hermione represented a form of true love that was unattainable to most.

Ron squinted at the contents inside his glass. "You've seen her, right? Much too good for me. She…she just has this way of looking at the world, and she knows it all! She's so fucking passionate and brave and wonderful…" He ended with a depressed sigh, rolled himself onto his stomach, and groaned theatrically into the grass.

"Harry has nice hands," muttered Gid absentmindedly.

Ron raised his head. "Then kiss his fucking hands already." He propped himself up with his forearms, studying his little brother with a critical eye. "One day you're gonna regret not tellin' him about your feelings!"

"'course I won't."

Ron snorted in disbelief.

* * *

Maybe it never really started And life continued. People had graduated from Hogwarts and had moved on with their lives. Jobs were taken and families were starting to form. Life, as it often does, kept on moving, threating to overwhelm those that refused to move.

And Gid moved on.

Marcus Wood was one of Oliver's cousins that had come up to England after finishing his apprenticeship back in America.

He wasn't like the usual witches or wizards that Gid was attracted to. Tom, Dean, Parvati, and Harry. They were all slender with dark hair and lovely eyes. Marcus was the opposite. He was nearly taller than Gid, much broader in the shoulders and had curling blonde hair that was much different from his cousin's buzz of thinning brown hair.

They had met at a Quidditch Correspondence event.

Gid had rarely dated since his relationship with Parvati had ended. Sure, there had been Dean, but Dean had been more in love with Seamus—and Fifth Year was a romantic mess for everyone but Harry apparently. The lucky bastard.

Marcus was new. He was different and knew nothing of Gid's life back at Hogwarts.

The relationship had not gone well.

It all ended at Gid's flat as they were the middle of a furious argument. Gid wasn't sure what had brought it on in the first place, but what had been a nice date together had changed when he had enough of Marcus' 'jokes'. They were small things, off-handed mentions that he'd been making ever since Gid had told him about his past relationships, even a small reference about his unresolved feelings towards Harry. These jokes were about how Gid was no longer the confused boy, a remark about Parvati or about witches in general, and the latest was about Harry. All things that felt like one paper cut after another, reminding Gid too strongly of Tom's mocking voice.

But course it was about Harry.

Somehow it was always Harry.

"You're still new at all of this," sneered Marcus as he tried to appear as someone older and wiser. "You'll see soon enough that it was a phase."

Arguments had happened before, but now it was time for things to explode.

"It was not not a fucking phase!" Gid snarled, jumping to his feet. "I'm a fucking person, thank you very much."

Marcus lazily rolled his eyes. "Come back here." He patted the space on the bed next to him. "You're being childish."

"Childish! You're the wanker who thinks you're so above it all!"

Marcus moved to his feet. "And you're someone who obviously doesn't know any better." He griped Gid's wrist. "You're the one who still has a hero-worship for the great Harry Potter."

Their voices rose to such heights that Gid was barely aware that the Floo had gone off in the kitchen. Marcus still had a tight hold on Gid's wrist, and Gid felt his anger almost threatening to burn himself from the inside out.

And, most likely following the source of the shouting, Ron barged into the bedroom.

Gid had rarely seen Ron transform like this. All traces of the obnoxious and protective older brother were gone, and in his place was a very terrifying Auror that had shown up in the nightmares of Death Eaters.

"Get your fucking hands off my little brother!" The tip of his wand was a scorching shade of red, smoke already trailing in the air.

And Gid hadn't seen Marcus since.

* * *

Maybe it all started when Gid foolishly agreed to let Harry live with him.

It was Harry. Just Harry. He was Ron and Hermione best friend, he was loved by all of Gid's family, and they even shared friends. It was just Harry, so why was Gid feeling so nervous about this?

It was just Harry.

Harry. Harry. Harry.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

One of the keys to living with Harry was to not imagine him naked.

Gid found that very hard to do because there were things that Harry did that lead to those thoughts. He would shuffle around their kitchen in the morning with stubble that left Gid wondering what that would feel like against his face, or his chest, or his thighs… Gid wasn't that particular. It had been over a year since his last relationship, so he figured that it was probably normal at this point to feel just the _slightest_ twinge of old feelings coming back.

Just slight.

Old feelings. Very, _very_ old and weren't in danger of coming back anytime soon.

Really, that was what they were.

* * *

Gid couldn't think of anything more terrible than doing Harry's laundry for a week. It only made things more frustrating when he was holding a pair of Harry's pants as he argued with Ron.

"Just admit it already!" Ron goaded. "You're miserable like this!"

"You have no right to judge me!"

"But I managed to get my heard out of my arse. You should consider doing the same." Ron looked every inch of the annoying older brother who thought he knew what was best. "And don't say that it's different! You're becoming a lot more obvious than I was with Hermione."

Gid laughed. "I'm fine! Really! I'll get over this stupid crush like I've always done before."

It was more than just the sharp words that his great-aunt Muriel often made, Parvati and Dean's reactions, Tom Riddle's dark laugh or even Marcus' snide remarks. It was the fact that Gid often felt like he was getting the evil eye from a Blast-Ended Skewert if it felt like he had said the wrong thing, it was the bitterness that cut into his heart when _Witch Weekly_ wrote a trashy article about Gwenog Jone's newest girlfriend, it was that the Yule Ball was very articular rules about dates, it was about so much more and at the same time it wasn't.

Maybe it was also the fact that Gid still carried the memory of Tom mocking him that Harry was going to die because of him.

Maybe it was still that, too.

Ron's expression became more pitying. "He really did a number on you, yeah?" he asked softly.

There was no needing to ask which 'he' it was.

"He did," admitted Gid. He felt the prickle of unshed tears start in his eyes—and _dammit_. He hated crying, he hated it even more when it was in front of his brothers.

He jumped when Ron clasped a hand over his shoulder, and gave a brief pat. "Promise me one day that you'll figure things out, okay? I want you to have a happy future."

"You sound like Mum just now," muttered Gid, narrowly avoided wiping his face with Harry's clean pants.

* * *

The action-figure was detailed almost creepily to perfection. Messy black hair that stood up in the back, the pensive smile on its face with his wire-rimmed glasses in danger of falling off its nose. It wore the outer layer of his Auror work robes, but Muggle clothing could be seen underneath as a pair of worn jeans and a bright red jumper that made its eyes even greener.

It was charmed to say only three things in a squeaky imitation of Harry's low voice. "I'm here to save you!", "Be brave!", and the ever iconic "Expelliarmus!"

George had brought it to the flat at some point, and Gid was sure that Harry had no clue about the existence of it. He was planning on surprising Harry with it by hiding it in the pantry, or in the fridge next to the last bottle of Butterbeer. But he wasn't much in the mood for that.

Gid carefully poked the toy with his index finger, watching it sway for a bit on its feet. "What do you think I should do?" he asked glumly, resting his cheek on the kitchen table. Gid felt miserable thanks to his talk with Ron.

"Be brave!" the fake Harry squeaked. It brandished a wand that was the wrong color from the real thing.

"You're Harry _bloody_ Potter." Gid stared at the toy, feeling more miserable. "Of course you're brave."

It walked up to Gid's face and poked his nose with the wand. "I'm here to save you!"

"That's awfully nice of you. What do you think, Non-Harry? Coming out to you is one thing, but how do you think you'll react to me having the saddest crush on you?" Gid waited for a response.

The toy paced back and forth, swinging its wand arm mechanically. It stopped and turned to face Gid. "Be brave!"

" _You already said that!"_

* * *

At some uncertain point between when Harry moved in to the week of the wedding, Gid had fallen in love.

How unfortunate that Harry had managed his way back into Gid's heart again.

* * *

Weeks later, it was the night of the much feared Bachelor Party.

There were shirts waiting for them at George's that were a lurid orange with the words done in a flashing purple letters 'SLEAZY FOR WEASLEY'.

"Screw you, George," Ron muttered. He wasn't thrilled about the shirts.

"Well, seeing how Angelina is a Weasley—"

Charlie held the offending garment gingerly with his fingers, as if it was some ill-tempered dragon instead. _"Ew."_

"George, you are no longer allowed to plan any future bachelor parties," Bill ordered.

"I'm being honest here that these are not the shirts that I ordered," said Harry.

* * *

"Tonight is the night for true love!" Ron saluted dramatically to their party. It was only a few hours into the party, and they were at their third club. Various party members were already pissed, and had shared quote a few embarrassing stories about their childhoods or even their jobs. Now Harry was one of the few sober people left to take care of things.

Ron was still continuing his heartfelt speech as h stood on a table. "May all of us sad buggers find someone who makes your heart sing like a Celestina Warbeck song." And Ron started to sing one of them very off-key, but with a lot of heart and meaning.

Knowing that people were staring at them, Harry glared at their friends. "What? He's being really happy."

Dean whistled.

Seamus was sniggering into his hand.

"I hate all of you," said Harry happily. He wrestled Ron off the table and got him back to his feet.

Ron, his face a bright pink and eyes glazed, pursed his lips in a deep frown. "I get it, you know."

Harry readjusted his glasses, his face turning red. He hoped no one was paying attention to any of them since the terrible singing was over. "Get _what?"_

"And people say I'm thick." He slung an arm over Harry's shoulders, leaning heavily against him. "Listen, I know what it's like to fall for yer friend, but don't-don't…" Ron poked Harry's chest a few times, forgetting the rest of his sentence.

"Ron, I think you're drunk." But Harry's face was flaming under the colorful lights. He helped his best friend straighten himself back up, allowing to be used as a support for walking back to their spot. "Am I?" he asked, hoping that the words would get lost in the loud sounds of their surroundings.

Ron leaned his head on Harry's shoulder. "You're my _best_ friend. My very best friend, and I want what's best for you."

"De _-nile,"_ Ron sang terrible. "Denial, denial, Harry's in denial!"

"Shut up!"

Harry shrugged him off, and let him fall over Dean and Seamus' laps. "He's _your_ problem now!"

Seamus patted Ron's pink cheek. "There, there. Don't let Harry's mean words get to you, we'll now be your new best friends."

Harry wandered through the crowd, trying to find the others so that they could move onto the next club. Maybe not even a club, maybe they should just find a nice pub to end the night.

That would be so nice.

"There you are!" He found Gid standing alone in a corner. His expression stoic and a tightness in his face. "Come on, we need to find the others!" Harry laced his fingers through Gid's, ready to lead him through the crowd of moving people. "What's wrong?"

Harry almost couldn't catch Gid's words.

"That's my ex-boyfriend." Harry followed his gaze to see a vaguely familiar man with a thatch of blond curls on the dance floor. He saw them, and Harry instantly turned to glare at the man. He felt Gid's fingers tighten around his.

There was a beat of silence. It wasn't that a million things suddenly made sense; it was that something finally clicked, a fact about Gid that Harry never bothered to figure out before. He suddenly understood the closeness that his friend was to Dean back at Hogwarts, the secrecy of past relationships, the reactions of some of their friends...

And Ron, so much about Ron's sudden spike in protectiveness made sense.

"So…that ex that was here, that was your…" Harry struggled to find the words that he wanted to use.

"Boyfriend," Gid said again, but more curtly. His lips thinned in displeasure, his eyes looking back to the dance floor. "Very much an ex. Very much an utter bastard."

"Are you okay?"

"Well, I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of having me sulk away…" Gid thought more about it. "Or maybe I'll just let Ron finally get the chance to hex him. He's been itching to for a while."

Harry inwardly flinched. Of course Ron knew. The thought of someone hurting his friend gave him another reason to feel off about this newest piece of information. _Years_ , Harry thought. _I've known you for years, so why wait now to tell me?_

Gid shuffled, shoving his hands in his pockets. The whole posture reminded Harry of seeing the wizard when he was shy and afraid at the age of ten. Harry opened his mouth to speak, willing to say anything, but Gid quickly took over.

"Bisexuality. Never knew there was a word for it until I was 13. Hermione found it; of course, she found a lot of them, really. But, yeah, uh, Parvati and I dated for a bit. And then it was Dean, but he was holding such a bloody torch for Seamus that—you know. Then I had that mistake with Marcus and there hasn't been anyone since." Gid took a shaky breath. "I'd meant it when I said that I didn't had the time, but I'm afraid of putting myself back out there and I…I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but I get it if you want to move out or—"

"Why would I?" said Harry curtly.

"But—"

"We're friends, right?" said Harry firmly. Gid nodded, his face still pale. "Good. That settles it."

"Harry!"

But Harry was already moving ahead, the words buzzing in his mind, as if a swam of bees had been let loose inside.

 _Bisexuality_. So there was a word for it, after all. Harry repeated the word again.

_There was a word!_

Feeling much like eleven all over again with Hagrid giving him a word that explained him; what he was and what made sense.

Unease and relief fought at ach other, and Harry struggled to find a balance in it all.

* * *

Hours later, there was more unbalance when Gid wasn't sure who's kitchen that he apparated in, but the telltale red hair was enough.

" _I kissed Harry!"_ Gid wailed. He lowered to a crouch and cradled his head in his hands, unable to stop the words from falling out. "Ron was fucking right all along!"

George's mouth dropped. "Holy shit, I wasn't imagining things."

Ron thumped the back of George's head. "Really? He's in distress and that's all you have to say?" Ron realized something. "Oh, fuck. How did Harry react?"

Gid said something incomprehensible in his hands. He could still feel Harry's mouth on his, the soft moan, the frame of his metal glasses awkwardly pressing into Gid's face.

Ron knelt down next to him. "Hey, Giddy," he said, using the old nickname. "Things are going to be fine."

He shook his head, feeling tears starting their escape.

His older brother had clearly taken something to clear his head, because when he pried Gid's hands away, his face was entirely sober and serious. "Giddy, look at me. I'm sure Harry—"

"I fucked it all up." And Gid wanted to cry because of a million things. "How could I fuck everything up so much?"

And he began crying.

* * *

Maybe it all started when it was the day of the wedding, and Harry felt as though he'd been chasing dragons all night on foot. He was so emotionally strained and exhausted that he's shown up at the Burrow, and had forgotten to brings his shoes that had to go with his dress robes.

"At least it wasn't your head," Molly scolded before someone needed her help in the kitchen with the wedding cake. "Dear, there's not much time, but there's bound to be a pair in one of the boys' rooms."

Harry waited for her to mention anything about what had happened last night, but the Weasley Matriarch had her full attention on the wedding.

He waited for someone to say something. There were Weasleys and Grangers busying themselves all over, and no one paid him any attention. There was no one stopping to stare, no one accusing him of anything, and no Ron threatening to curse him into the next century.

Instead it was predictably his thoughts that were causing him most of the trouble.

Harry found himself upstairs, mindlessly lost and reminiscing about his living situation and other things about the heart. It was something that he found himself doing often at odd hours, thinking, wondering, hoping, waiting…

It wasn't until he opened the door to Gid's room was when reality came back.

And there was Gid. Dressed and ready, sitting on his old bed with such a dishearten look on his face.

They stared at each other, a chasm widening between them.

Harry took a step forward, and Gid receded more into his bed, becoming smaller.

This wasn't going to help.

So Harry closed the door behind him and cast a spell or two. "We're going to talk," he said, his voice sounding far braver than he actually felt.

"I'll move out," Gid blurted out, his face sickly pale against the black of his dress robes. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I really am."

Why was he sorry?

"Do you have any idea at how happy you make me?" Harry sat down next to him. "Last night doesn't have to change anything. Gideon, you're my friend and so much more. I need you in my life."

Gid rubbed his eyes, hissing. "No, you don't. Fuck, Harry. You really don't, and you would do so much better without me causing so much fucking confusion in your life. You should be mad at me right now."

"I'm not mad at you."

"But you should!" Gid argued, his hands flying up in distress. "It's because I'm still in love with you! I've been having feelings for you since I was eleven, and no matter what I do the feelings keep coming—"

" _Gideon."_

And Harry was kissing him. He curled his fingers in the lapels of Gid's robes and pulled him in closer. The red-haired wizard froze at first before yielding completely. This was real and it was happening. Everything felt warm, , and Harry wondered if he was going to combust on the spot like Fawkes on his Burning Days. After several blissful moments, Harry pulled away and said, "Do you still miss kissing?"

"Merlin, _yes."_

And they were kissing again. And again. And again. Until Harry felt like he had lost all sense of time, that he had forgotten that his best friends were about to get married, and that all of their friends were probably waiting for them. All he could care about that he was finally kissing Gideon Arthur Weasley after what felt like years of waiting.

"Reasons why you should still live with me," Harry gasped.

"Shh." Gid pressed a kiss between Harry's eyes. "Less talking and more kissing."

"One. I'm good company even though I'm short and specky." Harry laughed as Gid tried to silence him. He continued his list. "Two. I'm pants when it comes to my emotions, but having you around helps. And three is that might be a crup involved."

Gid buried his head in the crook of Harry's neck and laughed. "I have another reason. It'll be a good place for two lovebirds to hide in fear if they miss the wedding." He kissed the spot underneath Harry's ear.

"Bollocks! We need to—" Harry started to say, but decided on kissing Gid one last time. This time it was slower, a hand cupping the back of Gid's neck, the other one holding tightly on the front of his robes. It was a kiss meaning that they had a lifetime more to share together.

It would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for this fic were mainly The Wolf (Mumford and Sons), Brighter Than Sunshine (Aquaplung), a majority of Florence and the Machine ones, War of Hearts (Ruelle), Let Love In (Goo Goo Dolls), and Halo (Beyoncé).
> 
> EXPECT THE EPILOGUE ON THURSDAY!
> 
> OR MAYBE EARLIER. IDK.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :-D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babies have better impulse control than whatever I have.
> 
> DONE! FINALLY FREAKING DONE WITH THIS FIC! I HAVE SEEN THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL, AND IT'S FREAKING WONDERFUL!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone that has been following along on here and ao3. Your reviews and support have been such great motivation for what was going to be a one-shot born out of desperation to avoid Russian homework. It has gotten me through writing slumps, mental and physical health issues, and the general madness of being an undergrad.
> 
> A special thanks goes out to the usual crowd who reads these fics (carolqc14, BriP, Alittlemorecreative, TD90, Dark Singer, ObeliskX, and etc), and to people like TatterdemalionDandelion for leaving reviews. Also to Pottermum, Sriram and Hufflepuffity on tumblr and ao3 for being such great support.

 

 

"M'gonna get the mail," Gid muttered. He kissed Harry's jaw to make it easier to untangle their limbs, feeling the sleepy wizard sigh and move as Gid kissed further down Harry's neck. His boyfriend (boyfriend? Flatemate-turned-snogging partner? They really needed to decide on that at some point) complied with some mumbled words. He shivered as his feet hit the cold wooden floor, and then he started searching for something to put on.

Clothes were scattered around his room, and he wasn't sure how Harry's tie had managed to land on his dresser, and Gid had no clue where his shoes could be. The part between leaving the wedding and entering the bed was a pleasant blur.

Harry squirmed and frowned.  _"Neh_. Cold now." He took up Gid's side of the bed and cocooned himself in the warm sheets.

Gid snorted and loosely tied the belt to his rumpled sleeping gown. "I'm making a pot of tea, too. You want anything, luv?"

The dark-haired wizard readjusted his weight and opened a single green eye. "Just you. Get back here and we'll talk about better nicknames."

"I'm adding toast to that tea."

"Get back in this bed, Weasley," Harry ordered. Sounding more awake, he sat up and was using the voice that he did to boss the other Aurors around. It was a nice sort of voice that Gid liked. It only made Harry more attractive with his tousled morning hair and the lovebites making his dark skin. "We got some years to make up for."

"Orange slices," Gid added thoughtfully. "Hate to get scurvy if we're planning on staying in that bed for so long…" He shuffled out of his (or was it now their? Really, what were they going to do about the sleeping arrangements?) bedroom and went to the kitchen to be greeted by their owls. Velma and Prometheus were eying a third companion that has just flown through the window. Unlike the paper or some letters that were tied to their talons, this one had a package attached to him.

Pausing, Gid kept some space between him and the black-feathered owl. It was George's Felix, and he never liked how those crafty eyes always looked at him.

Felix hooted impatiently.

"Fine," Gid muttered. He cut the package free and shooed the bird. "Now go before you cause a scene." Felix pecked his hand and left with a quick glare.

It was a small box, but Gid knew what surprises his older brother was capable of. He poked it a few times with his wand. Maybe he should get Harry out of bed? Surely a highly trained Auror would know what spells to use to ensure that a package was safe to open?

 _But it's not like George would send something horrible after yesterday?_  Gid thought.  _He'll have to be a wanker to try anything._ Shrugging, he made a mental note that the first-aid kit was in the cabinet, and he opened the box—only to get showered with purple confetti.

"Harry!" Gid spat the confetti out of his mouth. "Help me kill George later today!"

Inside was a small chocolate cake with words done in purple icing: _Congratulations on the Sex._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While it's great to be able to create a more diverse space in fanfiction, here's a list of books and web series that have main LGBTQIA+ characters.
> 
> Carmilla (web series): A College AU of the famous vampire novel where Laura has to deal with the mysterious disappearances on her strange campus while having a very attractive and somewhat vampire-ish roommate.
> 
> Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda (book): Sending flirty emails to his anonymous crush is all fun and games until Simon is blackmailed to be a matchmaker.
> 
> Six of Crows (book): An impossible heist with six amoral thieves to do the job. Magic, chaos, and more in this pseudo-European world!
> 
> Edge of Normal (web series): Badass girls with superpowers. That is all. I want more.
> 
> The Song of Achilles (book): I've been called Satan for recommending this book, which is about the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus in The Iliad.
> 
> Coupleish (web series): What happens when you try to pull a Fake Marriage thing in Canada? The closed captions are a reason alone to watch this.
> 
> The Raven Cycle (book): Big changes come to a town in Virginia where several teenagers are on a quest to find a sleeping Welsh king.
> 
> I'll Give You the Sun (book): Twins try to reconcile after a disaster tears them apart.
> 
> All for One (web series): An Everyone is a Lady College AU of The Three Musketeers.
> 
> The Turn of the Story (book—free online): A very grumpy Irish boy ends up in a magical land where things start to go a little sideways when he tries to make changes there.
> 
> Honorable mentions with side characters: The Mortal Instruments, The Lynburn Legacy, The Grisha Trilogy, October Daye, Heroes of Olympus, Skulduggery Pleasant, Firebug, Young Wizards, Diviners, and there are more that I'm definitely missing.
> 
> ...
> 
> …
> 
> …
> 
> SOPHIE! SOPHIE! IT'S DONE! I FINALLY WROTE A DAMN STORY THAT HAS A LINEAR PLOT! I ONLY HAD TO USE THE FLASHBACK SHTICK ONCE! I'M DONE! DOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEE!
> 
> Wait. I have to revise and edit everything again.


End file.
